There was a Young Lady of Mankhurd
Who subsisted on yoghurt and curd.
She preferred it mixed up
With blood that she'd sucked up -
That anopheline Young Lady of Mankhurd.
Thursday 5 November 2009
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The message is supreme;
Born in the heart,
and lilting itself
from tongue to tongue,
throwing its scent
over wind and wave;
travelling on dots
or fingers
when blindness
or silence bar its way.
It hews itself into stone
or burns itself onto magnetic discs;
it is the message that lives
and I exist
solely to pass it on.
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